


Artistic Direction

by romanticalgirl



Category: American Actor RPF, British Actor RPF, Brothers & Sisters RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-12
Updated: 2013-03-12
Packaged: 2017-12-05 01:24:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 669
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/717259
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/romanticalgirl/pseuds/romanticalgirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Originally posted 11-20-08</p>
    </blockquote>





	Artistic Direction

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted 11-20-08

“Hey.” Dave walks into Matthew’s dressing room without knocking, ignoring Matthew’s protest and flopping down on the leather couch against the wall.

Matthew raises an eyebrow and pushes the door shut. “Come in, Dave. Make yourself comfortable.”

“Thanks.” Dave flips him off and leans back against the cushion. “We going out tonight?”

“Could.” Matthew undoes his tie and hangs it on the end of the wardrobe rack. “Not sure I’m up for it though, t’ be honest.”

“You’re such a pussy, Rhys.”

“Takes one to know one, yeah?” Matthew casts a quick glance at Dave and then tugs his dress shirt free of his slacks and unbuttons it. Dave’s eyes are half-closed and they watch the movement of Matthew’s hands closely as he slips the shirt off his shoulders and tosses it onto the rack.

“I guess we could go to your place and knock back a few.”

“Why my place?”

Dave smiles. “You actually have furniture.”

“You have furniture.”

“I have a chair with three legs and a bed the size of Africa, dude. I don’t think that counts as furniture for most people.” Dave’s smile curves slightly as Matthew undoes his slacks, stripped down to nothing but his boxers. “Women, yeah, but they’re just there for the bed.”

“And your bad joke that with your dick, you don’t need a fourth leg for the chair, since you’ve got three of your own.”

“Women love that joke.”

“No, women love sleeping with people who are on television, mate.” Matthew tugs on a pair of jeans and pulls a t-shirt over his head. “They let you think they love that joke so you’ll still sleep with them.”

“They don’t have to pretend. I’ll sleep with ‘em anyway.”

“Yes, well.” Matthew smiles at him. “Most women don’t realize you’re a whore.”

Dave laughs and gets off the sofa, walking toward Matthew with his eyes narrowed. The dressing room isn’t large, and the space seems even smaller as Dave closes in. “Them’s fightin’ words, Rhys.”

“Truth hurts.” Matthew licks his lips, his eyes falling to Dave’s mouth. “You are a whore.”

“If that’s the truth,” Dave drawls the words, stopping his advance when he’s directly in front of Matthew, hardly any distance between them, “then why is it my date for every social event I’m seen at is you?”

Matthew raises his eyebrow again. “You’re my whore?”

Dave laughs and closes the space between them, his mouth on Matthew’s. Matthew exhales roughly against the kiss and lets Dave guide him back against the door of the dressing room. They both know this is dangerous, but something about the slide of tongues together, their bodies pressed tight makes it impossible to resist. “Fuck, Math.”

Matthew laughs roughly. “God, not here.”

“Why not?” Dave slides his hand down to Matthew’s jeans and undoes them easily, sliding his hand inside them with practiced skill. “Everyone’s probably gone.”

“Pr-prob…Dave…shit…Probably isn’t…” Matthew bites his lower lip to keep from groaning as Dave’s hand wraps around his beginning erection, stroking it to attention. “D-Dave. C’mon.”

“Does c’mon mean stop, Math?” Dave bites and sucks Matthew’s lower lip, his thumb sliding over the head of Matthew’s cock. “Or more?”

Matthew groans low in his throat and pushes Dave back, his breath shuddering as Dave releases his cock. “You’re desperate for trouble, aren’t you, Annable?”

“Not what I’m desperate for.” Dave laughs as Matthew pushes him back again, going easily toward the couch. “I think you know what I’m desperate for.”

“God.” Matthew pushes one last time, sending Dave sprawling on the leather couch. Dave undoes his jeans and angles his hips upward, pushing them down with a fluid shove. His own cock is as hard as Matthew’s, flushed with heat. “You are trouble.”

“In that case-” Dave reaches out and tugs Matthew’s pants down, exposing him as well. “I’d say that, of the two of us, you’re the one desperate for trouble.” He wraps his hand around Matthew again and strokes him once. “Come here.”


End file.
